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Go Ahead and Show Your Tits to the TSA, It's Legal

Illustration for article titled Go Ahead and Show Your Tits to the TSA, Its Legal

An Oregon man who stripped naked in protest of what he considered invasive search procedures is not guilty of criminal dick wagging, ruled a judge. He was protesting, and protesting is a protected first amendment right. Do you realize what this means? We can ALL take our pants off wherever we want as long as we say we're protesting something! I hope TSA officials at airports across the country are ready for it to rain fed-up areolas.


John Brennan is but a simple 50-year-old bearded Oregonian who often travels to Los Angeles for business. But when he got to the security checkpoint this April, things went slightly awry. Per Yahoo,

When he reached the gate, he declined to go through the airport's body scanners, instead choosing the alternative metal detector and body pat-down. After the pat-down, Transportation Security Administration officer Steven Van Gordon detected nitrates on the gloves he used to check Brennan.

"For me, time slowed down," Brennan said. "I thought about nitrates and I thought about the Oklahoma City bombing."

Brennan said before his trial that after months of angst every time he went through security, the nitrate detection was the final straw for him, a wordless accusation that he was a terrorist.

So he took off all his clothes.

Finally, after more than a decade, someone took Nelly's advice and responded to a set of stimuli by publicly disrobing. But if you think this judge's ruling means that it will always be Naked Time in Portland, think again. It's only okay to take your clothing off if the nudity isn't intended to arouse anyone. So, for Brennan's sake, it's a good thing he didn't accompany his clothing removal by subtlely swiveling his hips and singing "I'll Make Love 2 U" in his best Frank Ocean falsetto.


And let this be a warning to overzealous TSA agents, like the one in Chicago Midway Airport who made me stand there struggling to hold my writhing, drugged cat outside of her carrier while she leisurely swiped my hands for explosives, or the one in Seattle Tacoma who I'm pretty sure rubbed my clit through my jean shorts a little bit last year. The next time this happens, I'm taking my shirt off. That'll show'em.

God bless America's angry ballsack.


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I know this is a typo, but I love the idea of you having to hold your "Writing, drugged cat". Is that where beat poetry comes from?